


how can i ever be thankful to have such a husband!

by victoriaandalbert



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Diary/Journal, Fluff, Letters, M/M, Sexting, Shakespeare Quotations, Victorian-style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 09:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20525909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriaandalbert/pseuds/victoriaandalbert
Summary: For AU Week - a epistolary preview of my future fic,a "The Young Victoria" / Vicbert au, in which Eliot and Quentin send angry, sexually frustrated letters. And it, as always, ends well for the both of them.





	how can i ever be thankful to have such a husband!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OcyDarling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OcyDarling/gifts).

> Queen Victoria always wrote in big caps to express words, so I totally see Eliot doing that. Victoria and Albert have legendary letters and journal entries, which is what inspired this! The title of this preview (it won't be the fic's title) is taken from the journal entry on Queen Victoria's wedding night, where she wrote:
> 
> "...I never, never spent such an evening!! My dearest dearest dear Albert sat on a footstool by my side, and his excessive love and affection gave me feelings of heavenly love and happiness, I never could have hoped to have felt before! He clasped me in his arms, and we kissed each other again and again! His beauty, his sweetness and gentleness,- really how can I ever be thankful enough to have such a Husband!..."

**Evening of 4 September 1840: The Letters**

Q!!!,

I didn’t appreciate you locking yourself away AGAIN! And now they say you won’t see me until I calm down? You do know I am the fucking KING! You are but my damn husband here, and yet you are so “quarrelsome” (a word you like to say about me!) about EVERYTHING! The poor servants have to witness this and exchange these letters and it is all a fuss and I’m sure half of London knows how you overstep on your duties, which you ARE quite good at!!! And I think that is why I let you get away with too much, or rather, you THINK I will. 

Even Dowager Queen Margo has had it and will not respond to my letters when I complain about you, even though I am RIGHT! You say it is rude of me to not receive King Louis’s ambassadors, but in case you remember his twat of a son slighted me once at my coronation ball. Yet, you go behind my back and MEET with the fucking French envoys!

The only thing you’re allowed to “go behind my back” for is something you are EXCELLENT at, and it is within your princely rights I gave you! But diplomacy is MY matter alone. I won’t have you making bargains with my enemies. “For the good of England,” you say. You’re not even fucking English! This is not your country! This country is mine and I will do with it what I see fit.

And if you would be so good as to mind me, I would let you do with ME as you see fit. But no! You won’t! So why am I even fucking bothering writing this letter?!!!

\- E

Dear Eliot,

I seriously cannot take you when you are like this. I said “quarrelsome” once and you’ll just never let it go, will you? As I’ve told you before, you just absolutely don’t know when to stop and I can never get a word in, so locking myself in my sitting room seems the only logical outcome of a ridiculous fight!

You are a constitutional monarch, you cannot do whatever you want with this country. It is up to US, as partners, to steer England in a proper direction. One of progress. And pissing off the French court because the prince three years ago was foolish enough not to dance with you is one good way of achieving nothing but regression.

Because that is what you are to me--my partner. Yes, my king! But above all, my husband, too. And I do so adore my duties, especially the ones you are referencing. But I am just trying to help, not undermine your authority as a ruler of this great nation, of which I proudly am a citizen of now. It is a country both you and I love. One that you have given to me to hold with you. You’re Harry, and I’m your Katherine.

  
“... _ ;avouch the thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress; _

_ take me by the hand, and say 'Harry of England I am _

_ thine:' which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine _

_ ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud 'England is _

_ thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Harry _

_ Plantagenet is thine;' who though I speak it before _

_ his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, _

_ thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. _

_ Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is _

_ music and thy English broken; therefore, queen of _

_ all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken _

_ English; wilt thou have me?” _

(Henry V, Shakespeare, Act V Scene II)

Please think about what I have said. Because if you asked to have me, it “sall also content me.”   
  


Your ever doting and loyal husband,

Quentin  
  


**Morning of 5 September 1840: Eliot’s Journal**

I awoke at 6 am today! Quite fucking early! But HE was in my arms! I never tire of seeing the tiny glint of sun cast across his features when he is sleeping. He sleeps so rarely, always up before dawn, working hard, for OUR country.

I think I quite spent him, admittedly. He is always eager to let me OPEN him up. He was my Katharine and I was his Harry last night, we even called each other so in the heat of it all. Could I say I showed him who was king? Maybe. I am one and played one, and certainly acted as one, but our bodies are ALWAYS in harmony.

I love the feeling of him in my mouth, of tasting him, and of being inside him, watching his face flicker with pleasure beneath my touch, his body swell with every suck or thrust.

But it is the look of pure love in his eyes that means EVERYTHING to me! Even when we are angry it never leaves his eyes. We talked and talked and it ended SO well, but even when we were fighting there it was: his devotion to me. I feel I don’t deserve it, and almost flinch from it, but it is so pure and kind and real I can’t possibly turn away from it.

More French bullshit today, but I felt VERY refreshed over the night! Oh, I do so love him beyond all things earthly and heavenly.


End file.
